Eternity
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: HELLFIRE #5 Halloween parties, angels in white, demons in black, and a new, unimaginable truth.


-New fanfic! Hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you liked!-

-Eternity-

Minho didn't know why he'd thought this would be a good idea. Really, he should've known the night would turn out like this. When Albert Einstein, troublemaker of the neighborhood, calls and says he's having a giant Halloween party in his giant house, you know it's gonna be a wild night. A wild night you can't escape from because there's too many drunk people and too much music.

Minho was trapped and he did not like it.

The towering, dark wood walls of Alby's house seemed to shake with the beat of the music. Panic! at the Disco was pulsing in the air around dancing bodies and loud laughter. Several coffee tables were scattered with half-filled cups and discarded costume pieces. A pair of black cat ears was dangling from a lampshade. Cobwebs were draped over the windows and smoldering, orange pumpkin lights ringed the ceiling and walls. The makeshift dance floor in the middle of the vast living room was full of teenagers. All of them were dancing and all of them were dressed up for Halloween. There were ghosts, vampires, werewolves, bloody nurses, headless horsemen, and a dozen others. Minho couldn't believe how many people had come. He spotted Alby himself by the stereo, dark eyes gleaming from a face painted white with skeleton-teeth around his lips. The boy raised his hand and called something to a friend. The friend crowed back from across the room, unseen. Something broke with a shattering crash. A few kids stumbled away, drunk and tottering. It was utter mayhem.

Minho hadn't wanted to join in and get drunk tonight. He sure as hell wasn't dancing. So he'd found a quieter place in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. There were cups and bottles resting on the countertop behind him, so teenagers constantly walked past to get a refill. Some of them were guys who greeted him with the usual fist-bump or praise for his costume. Some were girls who either hurried past with a shy blush or sent him seductive looks from behind their masks. Minho fought the urge to roll his eyes every time.

He'd been horribly cheap this year and had made his own costume. It hadn't turned out too bad, he thought. He smiled wryly to himself as he thought of what he'd chosen to be this year: a demon. He wore a black tux with no tie and a couple buttons undone at the neckline of his shirt. A thick, silver cross rested on a chain around his neck, matching the snake ring at his finger. Thinking he'd look more believable (and because his friend Teresa had insisted on doing it for him), he'd added a shock of deep red coloring to his hair; it faded from black to crimson, spiked messily on purpose. Add fake claws and a bit of blood on his hands, and he thought it'd turned out pretty well. Teresa had squealed happily when she'd seen him at the party. She was off somewhere now, maybe looking for her friends.

That was fine with Minho. He'd rather have a few moments to himself. He listened to the music without really hearing it, grow tired of the party. They're were better things he could've been doing tonight, honestly. Sighing, he set his drink down on the counter behind him. Sure, he'd had some of Alby's stolen..."special" drinks, but not enough to make him drunk. There was a muddy little buzz in his head, but that was about it. However, he quickly decided that maybe he should just get drunk entirely if it meant he could ignore the girl now stumbling up to him. She was a brunette, with straggly hair and a witch hat. Her skimpy black dress made strippers look innocent. Dear God.

"Heyyyyy, Minho," she drawled, clacking across the floor in her heels. Her arm shot out to grip the counter's edge for support. "Didn't see you there earlier."

Minho knew he must know her, so he racked his brain for her name. Rachel, maybe? From History class? "Rachel?" he tried.

"Yup!" she chirped, confirming it. She nearly fell over as she pumped a fist in the air. "That's me! Whatcha doing?"

"Trying not to get drunk," he answered flatly.

"Aww, you're no fun."

"You're not doing so good yourself."

"Jerk. I'm just a little... Well, whatever."

"You have someone to drive you home, right?"

"Mmhm." Rachel let the counter take her weight, resting her lolling head on her hands. She batted long, fake lashes up at him. He could see the drunken cloud in her green eyes. "Unless you wanna take me home," she added in what he assumed was supposed to be a sexy voice. It failed miserably in its effect.

"I think I'm good," he replied, but gave her an amused, but concerned smile. "You're drunk as hell, Rache."

"And you're hot as hell, Minho," she shot back, as though he'd never spoken. Giggling at her own words, she sidled closer to him. "You have a girlfriend or something?"

"No." Unease began to twist Minho's stomach.

Rachel pouted. "Awww, really? Poor Minho's all alone?" She pushed herself into his personal space, hand placed flat on his chest. "I can help you with that."

Minho tried not to flinch. Her breath reeked of alcohol and the pressure of her fingers on him felt like a violation. Gently, he pried her wrist away from him. "I don't think so."

"But I'm bored and drunk, and you're alone and sexy," she whined. "We make such a good couple."

"Rachel, you're way too drunk right now. You're lucky I'm one of the guys that would say no, instead of the other freaks that could find you here."

"Mmmm, I don't think so."

"Come on. I'll find Teresa. She can drive you home."

"I don't wanna go home," Rachel complained. She planted both of her hands on his chest now, chin tipped up toward his face. Her blinks were too slow and her body was uncomfortably flush against his. "I wanna go to bed with you."

"I'm not going to—" He broke off, eyes widening, as she suddenly crushed her lips against his. Suddenly, he could taste the alcohol on her tongue and feel her fingers pulling at his neckline. Rachel was a horrible kisser and it didn't help that Minho was completely appalled by her actions tonight. His arms rose to push her away, but then—

"Oh, dear, Minho, I leave you alone for two minutes and you're already replacing me?" a tinkling, birdsong-like song asked. It came from right next to the two. Both Rachel and Minho jumped away from each other, Minho's face heating up in mortification and Rachel glowering darkly. They looked at the person next to them and quickly fell into dumbstruck staring. It was a girl. But it was unlike any girl Minho had ever seen. She was tall and blonde, with long, rippling hair that ended at her waist. Lithe limbs moved to place her hands on her hips, the motions graceful and catlike. A snowy dress of lace encased her body, flaring out at her hips; a pair of dainty wings stuck out from her back. An angel in white. She was captivatingly beautiful. She fixed a deceptively sweet smile on Minho, scarlet-lipped and with ice-blue eyes.

"Um," Rachel began incoherently. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse yourself," the girl sang, melodic and carelessly waving away Rachel with midnight-colored nails. "I can't believe how fast a girl's boyfriend can be stolen at these things. Incredible, really."

Both Rachel and Minho now: "Huh?"

The girl turned a pitying gaze on Minho. "Don't play dumb, Min. It doesn't suit you and you know I'm choosing not to be angry here." She glided over the floor and settled herself against his side. Fingers crawled up his back and found the place between his shoulder blades. Despite himself, Minho shivered.

"I don't know who—" he stuttered, but she cut him off with a searing glance.

Rachel was fuming, fists at her sides and teeth bared. "Now just a minute!" she snapped. "Minho told me he doesn't have a girlfriend! So you can take your hands off him!"

"Stop trying to defend him," the angel dismissed. "Especially since he's not yours to defend."

Rachel guffawed in shock. "You can't be serious. You two are...?"

Minho felt a surge of panic. "Oh, we aren't—" he started.

The angel curled her fingers hard in the back of his jacket and the sharpness of her nails in his back made him gasp. "Please, Minho, there's no need to explain yourself to her," she cooed, trailing her fingertip across his chest. Gaping at her audacity, Minho stared down at this stranger in wonder. There was something...oddly familiar in how those scorching blue eyes roved down his body, taking in his costume. "Why, darling, what a nice costume," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. "Are you my demon?"

Minho's jaw dropped. It felt like his stomach dropped out of him and hit the floor. No. No way. It wasn't possible. The angel slanted her gaze up at him and a knowing curve appeared in her lips.

Nearly unnoticed by the angel and the demon now, Rachel drunkenly stomped a foot on the tile floor. "Okay, you know what? I don't even wanna know what's up with you two! I can find someone else who doesn't lie about having a slut for a girlfriend! Go on and have fun then; good riddance, Minho!"

"Goodbye, Rachel," the angel replied uncaringly. "Do be careful and don't trip over those heels on your way out."

Growling, Rachel spun away from them, hair whipping across her shoulders. She stormed off without another word, back into the dancing mass of teenagers. She actually did almost trip over her own feet as she made her way into the living room.

Chuckling lightly, the flaxen-haired girl faced Minho with dark intent in her face. "Now, then," she murmured. "Why don't we find somewhere more private?"

Minho's lungs were working, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. He could only gape in stunned silence as the girl snuck her hand into his and dragged him from the kitchen. Her feet made no sound on the hardwood floor as she seemed to float over it through the house. Her movements were like music. Minho felt awkward and clumsy, staggering along behind her. It was only when they started down a dim hallway that he felt a stirring of doubt in his heart. He dug his heels into the floor. "Wait, wait, wait," he choked out. "A—are you—?"

"Just a moment." The angel tossed the words back to him like they were things to be discarded. She was raking her gaze critically across the doors lining the hallway. Finally, there seemed to be one that satisfied her. "Perfect," she muttered under her breath. Then her hand was reaching back and knotting in the neckline of Minho's shirt. She yanked him forward with surprising strength.

Minho only had time for a loud, "hey!" before he was hauled across the threshold. Stumbling into the darkened room, he fought to calm his racing heart. What was going on here? When he'd regained his footing, he immediately wheeled around to face the girl again.

She was kicking the door shut behind her with a flourish, flawless face split in a smile. "Oh, how lovely!" she exclaimed, and gave two claps of her hands. Minho jumped as the lamps at either side of the bed clicked on, bathing the room in dull orange. It was indeed a bedroom, maybe a guest one, though; the furniture was plain and the bedsheets seemed untouched. But Minho was more interested in this astounding girl.

She fell back against the door, wings crinkling, and laughed. But her laughter sent a jolt of astonishment through Minho's body. Her laugh wasn't a girl's laugh; it was too low, too masculine, too...familiar. "Goodness!" she giggled in that silvery voice. "The look on that girl's face! I haven't had fun like that in centuries..." As Minho stared in disbelief, the girl's features morphed, nearly too fast to see. Within a matter of seconds, it was no longer an angel standing there. It was a demon.

"Much better. I was growing tired of that loathsome dress." Newt stretched his arms above his head, chin tipped to reveal a flash of his pale throat. He seemed to revel in his true form, lean muscles flexing beneath his pushed-up sleeves. He wore white, from his button-down to his immaculate slacks and shoes. His vest and tie offered modest contrast, colored glimmering gold. Slipping his hands down to lace behind his head, he threw Minho a lazy grin. "Like my costume?" he asked. "I rather enjoy playing the part of an angel. A pity I couldn't keep the wings."

Minho's mouth fell open on its own. "So that WAS you?" he demanded.

"Of course," Newt replied, angling his head to showcase a yellow diamond glinting from one ear. "Who else would steal you away from that bothersome girl? You humans are absolutely hilarious when you're drunk, by the way."

"Wha...? Wait." Minho held up his hands as though to ward off Newt's words. "You can like, shapeshift? And I never knew?"

Newt chuckled like dark river water slithering by. "There are many secrets you've yet to learn about me, love." Caressing Minho's body with his eyes, he grinned wider. "Wonderful costume, by the way. You'd make such a lovely demon."

Minho's mind was still reeling over the fact that Newt could change his form. How many times had he appeared to Minho as someone else and Minho never knew? He could've been watching from the very beginning. But despite the confusion, he still blushed self-consciously at the blonde's compliment. "I just threw it together, kinda," he stammered. "I hardly had time to put it on before I came here."

Newt lolled languidly against the door. "How much time would you need to take it off?"

Minho swallowed and a dark intent appeared in Newt's eyes. He pushed off the door and took a step forward, and nerves tingled in Minho's stomach. "W—what else can you turn into?" he asked, stalling.

Pausing, Newt flicked his eyebrows up. "Anything you like," he answered, and in a second, his features had twisted again. The angelic girl blinked up at Minho coyly, dragging a toe across the carpet. Her smile was ivory as the moon. It turned into a grimace abruptly, as she scratched at the side of her dress. "Ugh," she muttered in Newt's voice. "This outfit is atrocious." Flippant and fast, she shifted once more. Minho choked on his spit as a mirror image of himself appeared, running fingers through blonde hair until it turned short, spiked, and black.

Newt-Minho sighed in content, clothes changing into jeans and a too-tight, gray shirt. "Ohh, I rather like this one," Newt's voice remarked. He twisted Newt-Minho's mouth into a savage smirk. "Yes, I think I could get used to this." He rolled his sleeves up, admiring the hard muscle in his new body and examining the Circle inked onto his forearm. "I simply adore this Circle."

Minho shuddered, watching himself study the tattooed mark. "That is way too creepy," he told Newt-Minho uneasily.

"Relax, I'm only trying you on for a moment," Newt-Minho replied, rolling his broader shoulders experimentally. Clearing his throat, he pitched his voice down to match Minho's. "Newt, I promise," he cooed in Minho's voice, wickedness in his gaze, "I promise I'll say yes this time..."

"OKAY, get out of my body," Minho snapped, rolling his eyes.

Newt-Minho laughed, voice and body changing as he did. Newt stood before Minho again, dressed in his classic clothing once more. Exhaling in bliss, he raked the last traces of ebony from his golden hair. "That was fun, hm? I do enjoy playing with your form."

Minho crossed his arms. "I'm sure you do," he stated drily.

He knew he was in trouble when Newt's expression switched, going from light play to demonic intentions. "Let's play a different game now, pretty thing," he purred, sidling across the floor without a whisper of sound. His tone became low and sinful. "Minho."

Minho barely got out his startled gasp, as Newt was suddenly in front of him, claws curled in his neckline. Newt dragged his face down with no preamble and crushed their mouths together. Fire ignited in Minho's bloodstream. It writhed and licked at his insides the moment those soft lips were on his. He couldn't hope to stop it; this was what it was like to kiss a demon. It was wild and bold, rough and hellish. Newt certainly was hellish, prying Minho's lips apart with his own and stealing the gasps Minho released. Moaning, Minho set his hands at Newt's sides and returned the desperate pressure of Newt's lips. His head started spinning as their mouths fit together, the space between them disappearing. To his surprise, Newt seemed to forget his composure too. He growled at the taste of Minho's tongue on his and jerkily shoved his fingers through Minho's hair. When Minho tentatively nipped Newt's upper lip, the demon seized the lapels of his suit jacket and yanked him across the floor.

Minho stumbled as Newt hauled him over by the door. A shiver racked his spine as Newt ripped his jacket off his shoulders and threw it to the floor. Planting his hands on Minho's chest, Newt shoved him up against the wall. Their kiss never stopped once, until Newt lowered his head to attack Minho's throat. Sharp teeth sank in and Minho's head thumped back against the wall. "Newt—" He bit his lip over the rest of the sentence, as Newt mouthed over his neck and tasted his skin.

"Wretched, beautiful human," Newt snarled, scraping fangs up the side of Minho's neck. "Look at what you do to me." Minho's hands tightened on Newt's waist and Newt's breath huffed out against his jaw. The demon had never been so close to coming unhinged.

"Doesn't matter what you say," Minho managed. "I'm not saying yes to you."

Newt made a frustrated sound, biting down on Minho's neck a little too hard. Blood welled and Minho hissed in a breath. Newt felt the human tense and calmed enough to lick over the indents his teeth had left. "Sorry, darling," he muttered.

"It's o—okay," Minho choked out.

It was the stutter that did it. Newt buried his face in Minho's neck, fingers trembling with want. He slipped his leg between Minho's and clawed Minho's shirt out of his waistband. Minho's breaths started coming faster. He gripped the back of Newt's vest for an anchor. Newt lifted his knee up high enough to make Minho roll his hips forward with a pleading whine. Continuing his teasing, Newt set to working Minho's shirt buttons open. A pleased sound escaped his lips when he discovered that Minho wore nothing beneath. His motions quickened, tearing at the clothing and revealing the powerful muscle of Minho's torso.

"Newt, I can't," Minho tried.

"Love, I'm terribly sorry," Newt replied breathlessly, "but I won't be able to stop." He finally shoved Minho's shirt down his arms and off. The sight of so much more skin to touch made his motions shaky when he ran his palms up Minho's stomach and chest.

Newt's touch was hot, scorching his skin, and Minho whined when he felt it travel to his collarbone. Sharpened nails dug gently into his skin and ran back down his body. Goosebumps rose and Minho couldn't stand this anymore. Fear didn't hold him back this time. He didn't think. Next thing he knew, he was pressing his mouth onto Newt's and tearing open the demon's vest; his fingers caught on the shirt and opened it as well, though only down to Newt's stomach. He felt rather than heard the growl against his lips: "did I give you permission to do that, little human?"

His punishment came in the form of Newt grabbing his shoulders, hard, and pushing him roughly back onto the bed. The mattress met his back with a thump and Minho's being came alive with electricity as he faced the exquisite demon above him. He looked straight into the dangerous, charred-blue eyes and told himself he could resist if things went too far. He watched dumbly as Newt straddled his hips and told himself he could say no. Then Newt slipped out of his shirt and Minho's defense went out the window.

Newt was beautiful, heartbreakingly so. Lean muscle rippled beneath his ivory skin, from the pencil-sketched lines of his shoulders to the definition in his stomach. There was a piercing at his navel, a small obsidian cross that winked mockingly in the light. Minho immediately decided that he loved that piercing. A sinister smirk flirted with Newt's lips as he toyed with Minho's waistband. "I'll admit, I'd rather do this somewhere else...in my own bed, perhaps," he purred. He smothered Minho's protest with a long, lazy kiss to his mouth. Then he murmured against Minho's lips, "yes, I think I'd like to hear you beg in my home, a few paces from Hell. But I can settle for this."

Minho's eyes flicked away worriedly. "I told you I wouldn't say yes," he reminded Newt. But his hands couldn't stop themselves from skimming over the silky skin on Newt's back. Christ, he had never imagined that the demon's body would feel so good under his fingertips.

Newt's expression shifted slightly. A low sound came from his throat and he brought his mouth down onto Minho's shoulder. "Change your mind," he murmured between long kisses seared to Minho's skin. "Change your mind and let me give you what you want."

Hands grasping Newt's hips, Minho shook his head. "N—no," he stammered.

"Minho," Newt warned, "I told you that I always get what I want, didn't I?"

Newt's left hand was braced on the mattress, the other pinning Minho's arm down. His fingers closed over the Circle. Tingles shot through Minho's arm. "Please," he found himself saying, not knowing what he was pleading for.

"And, divine little thing, I want you," Newt whispered.

"Don't—" Minho broke off with a gasp as Newt kissed down his chest.

Newt's mouth curved against Minho's skin. "I don't want to ask twice." His body moved like water, fluid and seductive; and their hips pressed together in a way that made Minho groan as his head fell backward. He felt fingers traveling down his body and couldn't find the strength to care. Newt was going to have him.

Well, he would've.

If the doorknob hadn't suddenly rattled, making Newt lift his head and Minho freeze. There was a muffled curse, then the door started to swing open. Newt's fangs bared in annoyance. The girl at the door had two seconds to yelp, "what the—!?" Then the door slammed shut again on its own with a jolt of energy cracking the air. Newt hadn't even needed to move.

"Shuck," Minho exhaled in relief. He didn't know what he would've done if they were caught. Then he blinked when he realized that Newt's weight was missing from him. Glancing up, he squeaked in surprise when he found that Newt was standing and dressed again. Seemingly in seconds, the demon had gotten back into his shirt and vest, smoothing the sleeves. He slanted those midnight eyes at Minho.

"It seems as if you've gotten yourself a bit more time," Newt sighed ruefully, "before I lose my patience and take you for myself."

Minho propped himself half-up on his elbows. "You wouldn't have forced me into it," he returned with feigned confidence. "You said you wouldn't."

Newt's gaze flashed. "I believe I said I wouldn't take what you'd soon give to me. You seem to be taking longer than I anticipated though."

"So?"

"So, I am growing impatient, Min."

Minho scoffed. "Please. You know you're not just here for sex."

"What makes you think that?" Newt asked, bristling.

Minho's skin was still alive with Newt's touch, kisses still sweet on his tongue. He remembered Newt's control slipping. Tipping his head to the side, he allowed a small smirk to quirk his mouth. "Why do you call me 'Min?'" he asked innocently.

Newt stared at him, lips parting slightly. "You—"

"No one else calls me that. Only you. Why?"

For a moment, Newt was silent. Then he barked out a laugh like glass shattering. "What do you expect me to say?" he asked nastily. "That I've grown attached to you? A foolish human?"

Minho arched a brow and pushed his doubt to the back of his mind. "You told me once that I wasn't just a plaything."

"What does it matter?"

"You told me I was more."

Now Newt's jaw clenched. "Be quiet."

"You said you'd never let another person hurt me," Minho pushed on.

"Shut up."

"Just admit it, Newt." Minho sat up fully now, oblivious to his still being shirtless before the demon. "You're falling in lov—"

"Shut up!" Newt's hands were fists and the air snapped with electricity. "You think I can feel such things?" he demanded. "You think they'd permit those feelings in Hell?"

"They don't need to permit them for you to feel them," Minho told him quietly. He stood up and Newt glared at him.

"You're a fool," Newt spat.

"I don't care." Minho stepped forward.

"You've condemned yourself, speaking of things like this. Admitting you care for me yourself. A demon!"

"So what if I care? I'm talking about you."

"I can rip your limbs apart without a thought."

"I'd like you to try then."

"Stupid, stupid human!" Newt snarled, and Minho moved. He rushed forward fast enough to force Newt back against the wall, forearms planted on either side of his head. The demon's eyes grew wide in shocked anger before narrowing to slits. "Move," he growled. "Before I tear your heart out of your chest."

Minho, shockingly, wasn't afraid. "No."

"You're a fool," Newt repeated vehemently.

"You are too," Minho flashed back, and leaned their foreheads together despite the danger. "You're a fool for me." He covered Newt's mouth with his own and prayed that he wouldn't be torn apart.

Newt stiffened. Claws dug into the wall behind him. Then a tiny noise escaped and his head angled to kiss back. Minho deepened it, crushing his lips so forcefully to Newt's, that Newt's head tilted back against the wall. They didn't touch anywhere else, just close enough for body heat to flood between them. Minho tasted fire, small sighs breathed between kisses, and Newt's fangs grazed his lips. It was slow, but it was also needy. Minho had never had a kiss like this one, certainly not with Newt. After eternity, Newt turned his face away, eyes shut. Minho blinked and drew back. "Newt?"

"Minho, you need to move away from me," Newt said with forced calm. "I don't believe I can be in the same room as you just now."

Minho's heart skittered over his ribs. "Okay. When...when can I see you again?"

Newt raised his gaze to Minho's and there was something unfathomable in his expression. "When I am not acting so weak," was his silver-tongued answer.

"Oh." Minho couldn't keep away disappointment. He took a step back to give Newt space. Watching carefully, Newt lifted his hand to snap his fingers. Then he paused. After a moment, he danced forward and pressed his lips to Minho's forehead. "If you were smart," he whispered into Minho's skin, "you would wash yourself of that Circle and forget my existence."

Minho rested a hand instinctively on Newt's waist. "Why?"

"I've become too...used...to you." The confession ripped itself from Newt's throat like ice shards. "And, darling, the only thing worse than a demon who wants you is a demon who loves you."

The universe froze. "Do you—?"

"No," Newt snapped, then softened. "Not just yet."

They stared at each other.

And Newt snapped his fingers.


End file.
